


In conversation

by Mossgreen



Series: 2770 ab urbe condita [30]
Category: 2770 ab urbe condita - Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Interviews, M/M, Master/Slave, Sexual Slavery, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 12:48:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16095995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mossgreen/pseuds/Mossgreen
Summary: Ven's new, um, fame, has come to the attention ofAve! serve, who would like to talk with him.





	In conversation

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: The reporter's words, and those of the Senator, are quoted directly from the report as given in the first part of Imperial_Dragon's [Imperial Earth](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1136804) series. (Go read it! Go subscribe to it! I'm loving it!)

Ven was sitting on the floor at his master's feet – well, on a cushion on the floor; he had not completely recovered his equilibrium after yesterday's video recording, though how much of that was in his head rather than physical, he couldn't say. It had _hurt_. There was a chill in the air that meant the retractable roof over the _impluvium_ had been closed, and the doors leading out to the garden had likewise been closed. The central heating had been turned on and the marble floor was warm under Ven's bare feet. It was another grey day, the sort that Ven wasn't really used to seeing, but it had been drizzling for the past few days and the weather didn't seem likely to change any time soon. 

It was the sort of weather that was proverbially termed 'British', for the cold grey drizzle that soaked you through and made everything cold and colourless. If anyone asked Ven (and he was only a slave, so they wouldn't), he would say they ought to box the weather up and return it to sender, namely Britannia.

The master was picking at his breakfast, occasionally feeding tidbits to Ven even though Ven had his own. The television was on, showing a very young reporter outside the Vitruvian Theatre. "I’m reporting live from the scene of last night’s brawl where a plebeian, a citizen and several slaves were seriously injured by a gang of young patrician and equestrian youths rampaging through the streets of Rome. Sources confirm that members of the imperial family close to the Serene Emperor himself were involved and are now under arrest."

Ven looked up at the screen, remembering seeing a judicial enslavement for the first time. Despite the warmth of the atrium, he couldn't help a shiver at recalling the cool decisive tones of his master's pronouncement of 'Sell him' when asked what should be done with the newly enslaved man. 

"We’ll now cross to the Senate house where Marcia Curtia Floriana has called for an urgent debate on the out of control youth of Rome…." 

Except they didn't; there was some kind of technical issue, and Ven couldn't help looking up at his master, recalling his own sale with another shiver. "They don't sell people born patrician, Master, do they?"

He couldn't recall hearing any instances of it, not even through the slaves' grapevine – and if anyone would know about that, the slaves would.

"Not as a rule, no," his master said, and tapped his head in admonishment. "Quiet now."

The technical issues had seemingly been fixed, for they were now live in the Senate House, where Marcia Curtia Floriana (Optimates) had the floor. “What happens in an instance of this sort can hardly be termed 'justice'. All Rome knows that these young thugs will serve their sentence in comfort. After picking up rubbish for at most three months they will serve the rest of their sentence of slavery in the bosom of their family, the imperial family, and learn nothing. As a mother I know the importance of deterrence...” 

Ven tuned it out, with practised ease. His focus was on his master (even though it might not appear so, to a casual observer, at this point in time), which allowed him to note that his master's coffee cup was empty and one cup was not going to do today. Quietly and efficiently, he poured his master a second cup before returning to eating his breakfast.

All slaves might not be born equal, but Ven was of the opinion (which he would never offer to a free person, ever! At least, unasked) that they damn well ought to be equal once their details were logged on the Bureau's Empire-wide database and access system, or what was the point? People serving short-term sentences ought to expect the exact same treatment as Ven himself – which was one reason why _every_ ex-slave joined the ranks of the citizens once they were freed; they could vote but not stand for office... Hadn't that rule been brought in to prevent patricians sentenced to slavery from using their position to undermine their former masters, once their sentence was completed?

Ven had served alongside one or two slaves who'd come to servitude through the courts, and they'd always seemed superior, nose-in-the-air types to Ven and his fellow _vernae_. If their slavery was _real_ , like Ven's, it would be a much more worthwhile thing – and surely more of a deterrence against flouting the law.

He paid no attention to any other news report until he caught the words, “The weather report is sponsored by the Capitoline Guild of Millers – true Roman bread, for true Romans!”

Ven tuned it out further; it was drizzling, it had been drizzling since yesterday, it was unlikely to stop doing so any time soon, however much he wanted a real downpour, or to see the sun again.

His routine would be the same as it had been over the past few weeks, doubtless: eat breakfast, ensure his master's rooms were neat and tidy while his master received his clients, accompany his master to the offices of Phallusy (if he decided not to work from home, in view of the weather), return home, record another video (probably), sort through his master's correspondence (if he was capable of doing so much once the recording session was over), his master would probably want to bathe (especially considering the weather – Ven could think of far worse places to be than the _caldarium_ right now! He'd even been in some of them, though not recently). 

He fumbled his way out of his parentheses as his master drew his attention again. "You have a visitor coming this morning, by the way, so you won't be coming with me to the office. I'll probably work from home, anyway."

Ven blinked and tried to prevent his jaw falling open. "A visitor, Master? To see _me_?"

"Yes – _Ave! serve_ is sending a journalist to talk to you. They're in Rome, we're in Rome, it seemed better than trying to set up a Kerne link. Who knows what that would be like, in this weather."

Ven said nothing, keeping to himself that probably the reporter (or journalist, or however they preferred to refer to themselves) would surely rather conduct any interview over Kerne, from the nice warm _Ave! serve_ offices than tramp about Rome from the Vatican (the seat of journalism and publication ventures) and back again.

"You may use the break room. I daresay it won't take more than a couple of hours – you will come back to the office when you have finished. And you may offer her any hot drink or other refreshment she wishes." His master ruffled Ven's hair. "And if you wish to have a hot chocolate, in view of the occasion and the weather, you may."

A female journalist, then. This would be... interesting.

"Yes, Master. Thank you."

The journalist turned out to be a very pretty red-head of about his age who, despite the hair-colouring, gave her name as Flavia. Ven settled her in on one of the battered sofas in the slaves' break-room, gave the equally battered low coffee table a despairing glance, and swiftly heaped all the tatty old copies of _Ave! serve_ into a neat pile 

"Don't worry, I've seen worse," she told him, setting her satchel down and pulling out a _tabula_ and phone. 

"That's not the point," Ven said, still standing. "Can we get you a drink? We have a _posca_ that isn't too awful, or I'm allowed to offer a hot drink – tea, or coffee, or...?"

They settled down eventually with a cup of hot chocolate each, the television (an ancient CRT model with questionable colour settings; the cast of _Amici_ had a distinctly green tinge) on mute in the corner.

Flavia got her notes out, but didn't plunge into questions immediately, although she set her tablet up on the table between them, and sat back. "I don't know how much you've been told," she continued, and sighed at Ven's expression. "Not a lot, apparently – that's more common than it ought to be, really. Right. We've been talking to your master about interviewing you, and my presence here will tell you that he's agreed to it. In view of the topic – that you've become famous for certain VosTubum videos – we were going to send Felix, except he's gone and broken his leg, and there was only one other slave in the office today." She indicated herself, a little ruefully.

"The staff are mostly all freed people, but there are slaves – we do most of the interviews, you see, because even freed people don't always get the level of honesty they'd like – and we're perfectly aware that there are things you may not like to tell us anyway. If you'd rather not answer a question, or would prefer to answer differently from how it's phrased, please do. Or if you would prefer to reschedule and have a male staffer conduct this interview, I won't be offended."

Ven smiled; he rather liked her. "No, it's fine – my master will probably read it anyway. And naturally I don't have any opinion on anything unless he asks. Though I'm not entirely sure whether having my words in print counts as having an opinion – it might."

"You'll be able to read it over and make some changes – within reason. We're hoping this will go into the May edition. And we're always looking for cover models – may I suggest that they ask your master if he'd let you do that, sometime?"

Ven shrugged. "You can ask – it isn't as though people don't know what I look like, after all."

Flavia went a little pink and Ven's expression grew apologetic. 

"Right, let's start. If we could get an idea of your background, your introduction to slavery – you read the magazine, you know the sort of thing." She set her tablet up on the table between them, and offered him a clip-on microphone. "Just clip this on, at the neck of your tunic. I'll need to adjust some volume settings – we'll record this and then type it up from that, back in the office. Please don't mind me if I fiddle a little while you talk."

"No, it's fine." Ven wrapped his hands around his mug, leaning back into the sagging cushions of the sofa, cautious in case the wire wasn't long enough.

* * *

**Ven: An unusual celebrity slave**

_Ven is familiar to a number of us from the videos on VosTubum that his master makes, to demonstrate products made by Phallusy, or techniques taught in classes run by Phallusy. We sent Flavia along to meet the slave and discover more about him._

AS: We know a little about what you do now. Would you mind telling us a little about your background and how you came to be a slave?

Ven: I'm _verna_ – there really isn't much to tell! I was born in Campania on an estate near Paestum. I suppose it was the usual sort of thing – getting in the way while 'helping' to dust, that kind of thing. I was four or five when the steward made a deal with me – if I'd dust a whole room by myself, properly, he'd give me a lesson that evening. So between him, and sneaking into the young master's lessons – I'd sit very quietly in the corner for as long as possible until the tutor threw me out with a cuff round the head – I learned to read and write, and do basic arithmetic. I learned bits of law, too – my old master was a lawyer and when his back was playing up, he'd get me or one of the others to hold his notes so he could read from them when practising his speeches. I didn't mind that too much, the trade-off for holding still so he could read them was hearing some of the arguments and debates that were going on. His side of them, anyway.

Anyway, he died when I was about nineteen. And the mistress moved here – to Rome – and brought several of us house-slaves up from Campania. We were sold in a private sale about four years later, I suppose the mistress thought she would get a better price here than down south. And I've been in this house ever since.

AS: So, how did your master decide you should be the subject of his videos?

Ven: I'd been a house-slave here for a year or so, and your master get to know his slaves in that sort of time – if he's paying attention, and my master pays attention. I suppose he must have liked what he saw because he stopped me when I was scrubbing the floor outside his room, and turned my life upside down. Though I think the first video was more for his own benefit rather than because he had in mind to make them regularly.

AS: The things he does in those videos don't look the most comfortable.

Ven: No, no, they're really not. [laughs] But my master knows what he's doing, and I think it's important that the people who buy the things his company sells know what it looks like when techniques are done safely. He doesn't tell me what he's going to do before he does it – the phrase _īnstrūmentum vōcale_ gets used a lot around the unfree, and in my case... Well, you don't ask the table if it's OK to put your cup down on it, do you? So, no, I find out what he's going to do when he does it. I can guess, sometimes, but I think I've only been right once or twice, and that was more luck than anything.

Of course, what you don't see in those videos is what he calls the aftercare. I may have to suggest he makes a video specifically addressing that...

AS: He takes your suggestions, then?

Ven: Well. He allows me to make them, at least. That's another part of my role – I'm his secretary, now, too. He allows me to make suggestions, and give my reasoning. He doesn't always follow it, of course, but he listens. I think it's important, that an owner be aware his slaves have minds – of course, we all know _as my master says_ , but it speaks of a certain strength in a master, to allow his slaves to suggest things. Respectfully, of course – I wouldn't dream of being anything other than respectful. That hurts too much! We were saying something before I got side-tracked...

AS: The importance of aftercare?

Ven: Oh, yes! It's a time to soothe the aches and bruising that may have been inflicted, and for him to reassure me – especially when it's been a painful demonstration, I do need to know that he's not angry with me, that he thinks I've done well. I looked this up recently, because I was curious – the body produces hormones in certain situations. When we're scared, and we get that nervous fluttery feeling inside and want to run, or to fight back? That's something called adrenaline, and in the sort of things my master does to me, there's a similar reaction sometimes, with hormones called endorphins – I don't understand all of it, but those can give me a sort of head-buzzy feeling, where it just feels good. So I need time to come out of that, and my master knows that, and gives it to me. I don't think I would have chosen to do any of this, but... I've learned things about myself. Though I think my ideal fantasy is a pretty girl and comfortable bed I know I don't have to get out of in the morning. [laughs]

AS: So... it must be a strange feeling, knowing that your master chooses to share what sounds like a very private thing with the entire Empire via VosTubum.

Ven: If they've got an internet connection, and they can access it, yes. I don't watch them myself – it's just too weird – but I have seen the very beginning of several. I guess the reason I look so serious is usually a combination of not knowing what my master's going to do this time, and being very aware of the cameras. Of course when he's doing whatever it is, I generally forget the cameras are there because I'm so distracted by...everything else. He likes people to be able to see my face though, or I'm sure I'd spend the whole time looking down.

AS: So how did you get to be his secretary?

Ven: He used to have a free secretary – Titus Vibidius Piso. I don't know the precise details – a lot came out in the court case but it was very technical and detailed – but I do know that my master had suspected him of stealing industrial secrets for a while. Naturally he fired him, and took him to court over it. Of course it all left my master in need of a secretary. I'm lucky enough to be literate, and he decided to make use of those skills. It means I sit in on his business meetings and take notes for him – and I have been with him on business trips, which was the first time I'd ever flown anywhere. Gives you a whole new perspective on things.

AS: Have you found that a lot of people recognise you from your master's internet videos?

Ven. Actually, no, not really. I think if I'm with my master, they recognise him, and then they might take a look at me. It's my experience that there is a fair amount of anonymity in being a slave, where the free people are concerned. They generally look right through you, or pay you as much attention as we're paying the table there. There was one party – one of those cocktail parties that people go to just to network – and a young lady was very... effusive over me, but I think even she recognised my master first. [shrugs] It might be because I'm not wearing anything in those videos, of course. People aren't used to seeing me in a tunic!

AS: It's a very nice one, I must say.

Ven. Thank you! It's my master's new livery – he told me he chose it to suit me, which is the first time I've ever had an owner do anything like that.

AS: Thank you for your time. Before we go, are there any words of advice you'd like to give our readers?

Ven: Oh, Demeter, now you're asking! There was something my old master's bailiff told me, once: Be the stick that bends, and not the stick that breaks. You can't choose what happens to you, but you can choose how you respond to it. And, from my own experience... if you suspect your master might want you in his bed, ask the cook to leave the garlic out of your food if he's not putting any in the master's dinner!

AS: That sounds like an interesting story.

Ven: Not really. I ended up in my own cot in the dormitory that night – it was noticeable even after I'd brushed my teeth. And our cook was told never to let that happen again!

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone recognised the Capitoline Guild of Millers and their slogan, well done! Yes, I pinched it from HBO's _Rome_. 
> 
> The caldarium is the hot room of a Roman bath-house.
> 
>  _Ave! Serve_ translates as 'hail, slave!' ('servus' is slave, 'serve' is the vocative singular form, used when addressing one slave directly).
> 
> Translations:  
>  _īnstrūmentum vōcale_ \- the tool that speaks, a disparaging description of slaves in a classification of farm equipment by the writer Varro.
> 
> Kerne is the equivalent of Skype ('cerne' is 'sky' and I gave it a K to make it look vaguely Greek – the Romans pinched a lot of stuff from the Greeks)
> 
> posca – a weaker, vinegar-ish wine
> 
> CRT – cathode ray tube. Analogue model of TV, that would be very familiar to anyone who grew up before the mid-2000s (our timeline!)
> 
> tabula - tablet


End file.
